The Professional
by shortystylee
Summary: ModernAU. Loosely based on Luc Besson's Leon the Professional. When Arya comes home to find her family murdered by the Lannisters, she runs and seeks refuge with her neighbor, Gendry Waters, who turns out to be a hitman in the Baratheon crime syndicate, eventually being mentored by him to take out her own revenge.
1. Chapter 1

One.

He didn't need information from the Spider this time. He knew exactly who was moving into the large flat next to his the second he saw the parade of dark brown haired heads mixed with auburn colored ones walk out of the two SUVs parked in front along the curb and then disappear into the front door of the building.

Starks.

He knew they'd be moving into the flat next to him, it was the largest, and besides that, it was the only vacancy.

What he didn't know was why they were moving here, what had brought them from Winterfell Estate to the warmth of Kings Landing in the beginning of summer. He didn't know why, but he knew that the Spider would. When Gendry needed information or when someone needed to get information to him it always came from the Spider. Never directly, he'd only met him that once. Every time after that, the information about whom his next assignment would be, when the manila envelope full of information, photos, and a USB stick if he was lucky, would be deposited in one of the hundreds of safety deposit boxes across Kings Landing, anything else his bosses needed to communicate.

He walked to the kitchen table, picked up the pre-paid flip phone, dialed one of the few numbers he had committed to memory, and once he heard two rings he shut the phone and held it in his hand, waiting.

The Spider called back, already aware of the reason for the call. The worst part, he also had no idea why the Starks had moved there. He had been going around and around with his informants, his "little birds," and they knew nothing.

Gendry Waters had never been more afraid in his life.

Later that evening, he arrived back at his flat from rounds of cheap beer and billiards at the local dive-bar with the only two friends he allowed himself to have, _of course, they're all Baratheon men too_, he thought, but he didn't dare talk about his new neighbors, or the "work" the three of them did in general for that matter. They all knew who they were and what they did. There was Hot Pie, 24 years old, overweight with an insatiable appetite for baked goods, losing his money at billiards to Gendry, and luckily for them all, driving getaway cars as fast as all hell when he needed to. Next to Hot Pie at their normal booth that evening was Lommy Greenhands, a young kid according to Gendry, only nineteen or so, but he'd been caught trying to pass off counterfeit money at one of the many Baratheon owned establishments in Kings Landing when he was even younger than that and instead of doing what they'd normally do, they brought Lommy into the organization for the potential they saw in him. Baratheon would never get into something so low-brow as trying to counterfeit money so he was quickly taught to be their cleaner - if anyone did a particularly unclean job of finishing their work, Lommy would be in there in no time flat to fix things.

Once home, his slightly buzzed mind decided to go through his files he kept and look up as much as he could on the Starks. He'd never had a Stark as an assignment, if it ever needed to come to that he figured it would be way above his clearance, _I'm pretty sure that we're allies with them from way back anyways_, he thought, but he still wondered if he might have some information on them. He had folders he kept hidden, just in case maintenance or anyone unsuspecting decided to rummage through his things. Flipping through the box of manila folders, he got to the very bottom, not finding any labeled STARK, and instead pulling out the GENDRY WATERS folder.

Both Hot Pie and Lommy admittedly came from nothing, and when they had all had too much to drink and asked Gendry about his life before Baratheon, he made up the same story he would always tell them.

He kept flipping through his own folder and pulled up a picture of himself, aged nine, with his mother kneeling next to him, a beautiful blonde haired woman. So full of life for someone that would die so soon after that photo. He'd tell them that part.

The next picture was a group photo from the government-subsidized boys' home he'd lived in from nine and a half until he turned seventeen. He tried to remember his age, fifteen? _That's right, it was the first time the guys from the army had looked at me when they came by recruiting._ They'd always stopped in, but at fifteen it was the first time they were interested in him. They looked for young kids with any sort of potential but no loving home to hold them back or convince them not to kill themselves or do something stupid. He'd tell them about the boys' home, but never about the army.

_No, never about the army._ He joined as soon as he turned seventeen, the home anxiously signing his papers. The lines to get in were long to get in and he was just another mouth to feed. He flipped over the next picture, it was only him. Complete dress uniform on his induction day, Westerosi flag waving proudly in the background. They'd said he had a talent like they'd never seen. Every target they'd set up, he could line up his shot and hit it dead-on, first try. No matter how far away they'd put it or whatever kind of distraction they tried. He was a sharp-shooter, on a team comprised of other elite marksmen. They'd bring them in for hostage situations, raids, he was even part of the team that took down the Norvosi terrorists that had been hiding out in the mountains in Dorne. That little skirmish had been all over the news, Westeros and beyond.

Gendry definitely did not tell them about that.

The next paper he pulled out wasn't paper at all, but a large sheet of thin black and white plastic. A familiar dull ache coursed through his right shoulder as he pulled out the x-ray and held it up to the light.

Gunshot wound, not fatal, upper right shoulder. Healed, partially, there would always be some shards that would be pestering him the rest of his life. _And that's where all this began_, he remembered. _Gunshot wound, discharged, back on the streets. But not for long. It only took a week or so of living off cereal and cup noodles in a pay-by-the-week motel for the Spider to find me_. He came home to find the middle-aged bald man, calm, collected, sitting in the desk chair at the motel.

"What in the seven hells are you doing in my room?" he'd yelled, pulling his hand gun out of the waistband of his jeans and pointing it square at the visitor. The man didn't flinch, not once. "How'd you even get in here?"

"I get where I need to," he replied, his voice calm, soft, and somewhat monotone. He didn't bother to take his eyes off of Gendry. "I don't think you really want to shoot me, boy. You wouldn't, if you knew who I was… and who I am connected to." Still sitting, he reached inside his long khaki trench coat and tossed a folder of papers and photographs onto the bed, fanning out on the thin comforter. There were his report cards from middle school and the two years of high school he bothered to attend, his recruitment papers from the army, family photos and polaroids from his childhood, even photographs from today – his walk from the grocer back to the motel this morning, pictures from his practice time at the range after lunch.

Gendry stood there stunned, the arm that was previously extended straight out now hung at his side.

"Westero's grand army might not want you anymore, but someone else does," the man said after a few moments had passed.

"Who?"

"In good time, Mr. Waters, all in good time. But now, as a show of good faith from my boss to you." He stood up from the chair and handed him a padded envelope from inside this coat. Putting the gun back into his waistband, Gendry pulled out a cell phone and five-thousand in cash out of the envelope.

"There's only one number programmed in that phone. Call it within the next two days if you're interested. We'd be happy to have you."

With that, he finished the rest of the walk across the small room and let himself out, softly closing the door behind him. The whole time, Gendry wondered if he had ever really been there. He held the phone in his hand, flipping it open and pushing it closed a couple times and then thumbing through the cash. _How can this be real?_

But the phone was real, the cash was real, and as he found out sixteen hours and a couple pints later, the offer was very, very real.

Two.

Six months later, there was still no real news about what the Starks were doing in the flat next to his, but as each day passed, he started to pay less attention to it. He knew Ned Stark was involved with some kind of big business deal or merger with the Lannisters, hanging by a thin thread which was his eldest daughter's engagement to Cersei Lannister's eldest son, who also happened to be the ex-wife of the boss he'd never met. _Gods damn glad I'm on the low rung_, he'd always told himself. _Don't know how that lot manages to keep their lives straight_. He liked his life, as much as he could. He had just turned 26, he had two dopey friends that were almost like bad movie sidekicks, and he was able to spend his free time doing whatever he felt like, going to the shooting range, working out, tending to that blasted houseplant. _Just have to follow orders and kill someone every so often, no big deal. Paid better than the army did too._

He saw most of the Stark family in passing in the hallways and aside from the occasional greeting he never said a word to any of them, except the other girl, the younger one. The one that seemed to stick out, was a bit different, maybe a little disenchanted with the whole privileged kid in a rich family situation, if he had to guess. _What I wouldn't have given for that. Nice house to live in, family that seemed to care_. He ran into her once late at night when he was walking home after being out at the bar with Lommy and Hot Pie. She was outside of the building sitting on the curb, rundown jeans, boots, and a large t-shirt making her seem already smaller than was. It was spitting rain out, and she looked up at him, taking a long drag from her cigarette and staring up at him with hard grey eyes.

He still doesn't know why he said it.

"Ya know, those'll kill ya."

She still stared, scrunching her face up at him. "Piss off," she said, turning her back away from him and occupying herself with whatever it was she was doing. He shrugged his shoulders and left her there, going back inside.

_That girl is not my responsibility_, he thought. _If she wants to sit out here in the rain at 2am, that's Ned Stark's problem._

In a week, she would become his responsibility.

Tuesday morning he woke up late. There'd been a job the night before, a rival "businessman" that had been giving one of the distant Baratheon cousins a bit of trouble lately and he'd been called on by the Spider to shut that situation down. He slept in, hung over from closing down the bar with Hot Pie on a Monday night. When he got home he'd felt a little pathetic about that and the look the bartender gave him. _Fuck them_, he'd thought. _You press a gun to someone's head and actually fire it and see if you don't feel up for downing a couple beers._

He began his usual routine. Started brewing coffee, poured a glass of milk for himself, kept the container on the table for his cereal, got the cereal out of the pantry. Watered the houseplant that wouldn't die. That was when he heard it. Someone knocking, pounding at the door. It wasn't his, it had to be the Starks' door. That was the only one he'd have been able to hear and feel that well.

As silently as someone with his build could, he tiptoed over to the front door, first trying to watch out the peephole, then resigning himself to listening. Whoever had shown up was clearly upset, though calm at first, and once he heard the front door shut the muffled voices quickly turned to furious shouting, though he couldn't make out what was actually being said. From then there was crashing furniture, women's voices screaming followed by what was most definitely a child's voice.

He counted the gun shots when they started, but gave up once he got past twenty. There was no point.

He heard the door push open, footsteps in the hallway, too many to tell the number of people, and then watched out his window as a black sedan peeled out of the alleyway next to the building. A large white commercial van pulled up in its place and watched two men dressed as janitors come into the building. He wasn't surprised at all when he heard their footsteps in the hallway and bits and pieces of their mumbled conversation.

About fifteen minutes later, he heard the noise of the city bus pulling up to the stop across the street. Out of instinct, he ran as softly as he could to his window that faced the street and pushed the curtains open just in time to see the same girl from the other night exit the bus and cross the street, carrying two fabric grocery bags over her shoulders.

_Oh, shit_, was all he thought as he unlocked the window and pushed it upwards and open. Looking around at what was near him, he saw a jar of change and grabbed it, pouring out a handful of coins into his left hand and throwing them one at a time at her as she neared, trying to get her attention.

She looked up at him, dumbfounded, and flipped him off without hesitation. Another coin was thrown in reply.

"What the hell do—" she started to yell, but he immediately waved his arms and brought his finger to his lips in any attempt to get her to shut up. He held out his hand to tell her to wait, before frantically waving towards the building. She cocked her head to the side and shrugged, then continued into the building.

Gendry was back at his front door seconds later, listening to the sounds of the clean crew in the Stark apartment. They'd make a loud noise and he'd unlock the door chain. They'd make another loud noise and he'd unlock the dead bolt. At the next loud noise he gently turned the handle and eased it open. It was then that he heard the girl's footsteps coming up the stairs. He opened the door just wide enough to stick his head through and caught her attention the instant she rounded towards their doors. He gave her a pointed look and she seemed to understand. Walking softly she made her way towards the door to her own apartment, _I can't believe their cleaner left it cracked_, he thought. _Lannisters, always out of control. Think they're unstoppable, never gonna get caught. _

Gendry knew she looked inside as she passed, it was plain as day on her face. He watched as she took a deep breath and continued her walk, nimbly sliding in to his apartment through the small opening he allowed. Repeating his actions, he waited for noises from her apartment and locked his door during each one.

They sat on the floor in silence for the next two hours.

When he finally heard the door shut and then two pairs of footsteps travel down the hallway, then the stairs, then soon out of earshot, he walked over to his window to try to peek and make sure they were leaving. They were.

Gendry didn't try to explain what had happened. For some reason, just by looking at her and trying to read the little bit of body language she allowed herself, he knew that she knew. There was no explanation from him that would help.

He gave her ten minutes to go through the apartment and grab whatever she felt she needed. The bodies were gone and the blood had been cleaned up. After all, they'd been in his apartment for just over two hours at that point and the cleaners had arrived before she had. It was immaculate, the same type of work he'd expect from Lommy, except Gendry knew better. Lommy was no Lannister man no more than he himself was. It had to be Lannisters, only they would go in like this. Unclean, make a bloodbath only because they knew they had pros to clean it up all nice afterwards. Take out the mother, the sister, and the younger brothers.

He stood in the doorway and watched as she ran around frantically, grabbing her belongings and trying to decide what to take. She grabbed a normal sized black backpack and walked across the room, avoiding the broken glass and furniture all while shoving what had to be in clothes into it as she went. She made a stop in another room on the other side of the apartment before joining him again in the hallway.

"Is that everything?" He asked.

"Everything that matters," she replied, nodding her head.

"You got a cell phone?" She nodded again and pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, holding out a shiny silver smart phone at him. She watched with wide eyes as he took the phone, dropping it on the floor and crushing it to pieces under his boot. "They're Lannisters, but they aren't stupid. They know you exist and they'll sure as shit be using that to track you as soon as they can. Now come on, you said you've got everything so it's time we got the hell outta here. I don't intend to be here when they come back looking for ya."

She didn't have anything to say to that, just nodding yet again and following him out the door. Gendry made a quick stop inside his apartment, grabbing a packed duffle bag that he always had at the ready and throwing some more winter clothes in along with the files he kept hidden. He made sure he had his cell phone for getting in touch with the Spider as well as its charger, gun cases conveniently disguised as a briefcase and a laptop bag, car keys, and houseplant before walking out the door and down the stairs, Arya Stark at his heels.

They drove through the city for a couple hours in his beat up old Buick, in silence the whole time. This wasn't exactly the type of situation that made for a great conversation starter. _Say, I know you came home from the shops this morning to find your whole family murdered and now you're in a car with your strange neighbor who's ten years older then you, but did I forget to mention that I also kill people for a living?_

They'd been up and down and across town about three times at the point when Gendry realized he needed an actual plan. _I'll bet the Peach has some open rooms. Shit hole like that is never full up._

"How'd you know they were Lannisters?" she finally asked once they were in their room. It was small, poorly lit, and had smelled remarkably close to wet dog, but the way Gendry figured was that they needed someplace safe, far from their other apartment building, and most importantly of all, under Baratheon influence. It was for those reasons he ignored the peeling wallpaper, stained carpet, and shower water that came out not quite so clear at first.

He stared at her for a moment, trying to decide what to say. "You know what was in that briefcase I carried? What was in the laptop bags? Did you think I was a businessman?" She shook her head. "Normally I wouldn't say anything, but I think we're stuck with each other for a while, so I'll tell you. Promise you won't flip out?"

"Will you just fucking tell me?" she said. She rifled through the pockets of her jacket and Gendry knew she was searching for her cigarettes.

"They're guns," he said plainly, putting his foot up on the coffee table as he leaned back in the lone armchair in the room. "One is an old military Pentoshi sniper rifle and the other is your normal handgun. If I need anything different for a job, I know how to get it." He looked over to find her looking straight at him, mouth slightly agape, as if waiting for him to turn and look at her. She didn't say anything. "We all have jobs, yea? I get a call, I get some info, a picture or two, and a deadline. If the person in the picture is no longer a problem by the deadline, well then I get some cash too. They're the lion's men, but I'm the Stag's. Baratheon. They do their jobs just like I do mine."

She finally found her cigarettes at the bottom of her backpack and lit one up, climbing up on the bed and sitting cross-legged towards him. The whole place was technically no smoking, but it didn't seem like any previous occupants had listened to that rule either. "So what happens to me now? You gonna shoot me too? Turn me over to Robert Baratheon himself?" She was confident in her words, annoyed with him.

"I don't know, but neither of those things. I'll talk to some people in the morning, but right now, we're sleeping." He got up from the armchair and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt from his duffel bag, changed quickly in the bathroom and came back out to the main room.

"You're not seriously going to sleep? You really expect me to just put on my pajamas and climb into that bed next to you? I don't know who the hell you think you are, but –"

Gendry sighed. _What have I gotten myself into?_ "First – yes, I am seriously going to sleep. I had a job last night and woke up hungover this morning. I'm beat. Second – I don't expect you to do anything. You don't want to share the bed, that's fine, I'll sleep in the armchair. You don't want to sleep, then by all means, stay up. And third, since we're all about sharing – I'm Gendry Waters. I was a sharp shooter in the military until I was stupid and got myself shot," he explained, pointing to his shoulder. "So somehow, at 26, I'm making a living killing whoever some guy I've met only once tells me to. But I mean, I guess it beats pushing drugs, right? And you? You're Arya Stark. You're 17 and somehow disenchanted with the life as the daughter of a millionaire businessman. I'm not trying to be mean here and I'm not trying to scare you, but those people out there, the ones that just killed your whole family as easy as other people take the subway and do their dead-end office jobs, they're ruthless. Cruel. I don't want you thinking for one minute that they'd show any mercy to you if they found you. I don't know what we'll do, but I've got good contacts, the best some say, and we'll figure it out in the morning, 'kay kid?"

He watched give a slight nod of her head, put out the cigarette in a water glass on the bedside table, and lay down on the bed on top of the blankets. _At least she's got the right idea there_, Gendry thought as he sat down on the side of the bed opposite from her, waiting to hear any protest to him sleeping there. When she said nothing and rolled onto her side away from him, he reached up and turned off the light, quickly falling asleep.

Gendry woke a few hours later, 2:38am according to the clock on the table. Something's not right, he thought. Rolling over to face the other side of the bed, he saw that Arya was no longer there, his first thought that she'd high-tailed it out of there the second he fell asleep, a thought which jolted him quickly out of grogginess. He sat up in the bed and as his eyes adjusted, he calmed, seeing the top of her head above the foot of the bed. _What in the seven hells is she doing sitting on the floor? _

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied curtly, harshly, but he immediately recognized the sniffling sound in her voice.

_She's been sitting up crying_, he realized. _I'm surprised it took this long, but she doesn't seem like the heart-on-her-sleeve type._

Not knowing what he should do, he sat down next to her on the floor, crossing his legs and not saying a word. They sat there, in the dark, in silence for long enough that he wasn't sure if it had been a couple minutes or a half hour. After some point, he finally moved, taking his left arm and wrapping it around her shoulders. He felt her flinch at first, though he wasn't sure if it was because it was dark and she didn't see it coming, or if the sudden contact was unwelcome. She didn't move for a few seconds, until all of a sudden she turned to him, small hands curled into tiny fists beginning to hit him wherever she could. Arms, shoulders, chest. There was a surprising amount of strength in her despite her size and he knew he'd most likely have a smattering of bruises come morning. He pulled her tighter and eventually the punches became slower and weaker until they were replaced by sobs.

He could feel his t-shirt getting wet from her tears and feel her breath on his neck when she tried to catch it. _We'll just stay like this, as long as we have to_, he thought. _Maybe the silence is good for her._

It wasn't long after that when she finally spoke.

"I... I need your help, Gendry," she started tentatively. He didn't want to say anything lest she decide to stop talking, or worse, run out the door, so he simply nodded, knowing she could feel the movement of his head against hers. "I'm the last true Stark now. It ends with me. I'm going to kill every last one of those bastards that did this to my family."

He pushed his head away from the side of hers but kept her close in front of him and steadied her, tears still running down her cheeks, by placing his hands on either side of his face. His eyes had adjusted enough to make out her features in the dark room. When she looked up at him as he quickly wiped her tears away, he was sure her eyes had adjusted too.

"You say you're the best at what you do. You've got the best contacts. Teach me how to do it," she said, dead serious and looking straight into his eyes. "Teach me how, Gendry, please."

Gendry nodded.

"Yes."


	2. Part Two

**Three**.

The alarm on the bedside table began to blare at 8am, jarring Gendry out of sleep and slowly bringing him back to reality as he looked around him, recognizing the peeling wallpaper and musty basement smell that was the Peach's signature. It was then when he realized why he wasn't sleeping in his own bed and remembered the events of yesterday. _Shit. I was really hoping this was all some dream_. He slowly rolled over from his right side to his left and saw the other half of the bed with Arya still asleep, curled up on her side and beginning to stir. _Nope, definitely not a dream. You've really gotten yourself in deep this time, haven't you, Waters?_

He slammed his fist down on the alarm clock to stop its beeping, and quickly hit the bathroom, brushing his teeth and getting dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. Seeing that she was in the same position as before, he left the room and walked to the gas station on the corner, returning with two Styrofoam cups of brown water disguised as coffee and two packs of strawberry pop-tarts. When he opened the door a few minutes later, she had moved from her spot on the bed and was sitting in one of the chairs next to the small dining table, aimlessly braiding her long mousey brown hair back away from her face, not sure what she was really supposed to do with herself. _It's not like this is some vacation road trip we're on. She's not going to wake up, watch Good Morning Westeros, and then go lay by the pool_. He shuddered for a second when he thought of the pool at the Peach.

"You're up. Here, breakfast of champions," he said, sitting down next to her and placing one of the cups of coffee and one of the pop-tart packets in from of her. "Hope you like coffee."

"It's fine."

They ate in silence for while, though oddly enough it wasn't awkward for them not to talk. _Not sure what we'd talk about anyways_, he thought, watching her slam what had to be about half the coffee and practically inhale the pop-tarts.

"Were you serious?" Arya asked, breaking the silence, as she brushed the crumbs off her mouth with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Ya know, about what you said last night."

"I am if you are."

"Good," she replied, nodding once affirmatively.

"Good," he echoed back. "Now finish that breakfast and get a shower. Probably can't stay holed up in this pit for too long and gods knows how long it'll be before we have a proper place to stay. Better take a shower while ya can. I'll call my guy."

She tore through the last pop-tart and immediately grabbed the bag she brought, heading towards the bathroom. Once he heard her turn the water on, he grabbed his cell phone off the table, flipping it open and dialing the number, listening to two rings, hanging up, waiting. Same as always.

Not thirty seconds after he shut the phone it began to buzz.

"Well done on the Monday job, Mr. Waters," the Spider said in his signature calm voice, not giving Gendry the time to say anything. "My little birds said it was very… discrete. You have our boss' thanks for eliminating that particular headache. But now, I must ask the reason for your call. We don't have another assignment for you quite yet."

"Well, I'm not sure how exactly to explain this. You know how the Starks were living next to me in the building on East 12th? Dunno if your spies have told you yet or not, but they're not there anymore. Lannister men came in late morning and as far as I can tell, took all of 'em out, save for the youngest girl."

"Arya."

"Yea, Arya."

"I am well aware of this situation. Power comes to families and power leaves families just as easily. The Reynes were once powerful too but now they're gone. The Targaryens have only one or two surviving members. A bit before your time, but I digress. So, pray tell, what exactly is the problem then?"

"The youngest girl, Arya. She's my problem. She wasn't there when it happened and came home when it was being cleaned. Hid out in my apartment and then we packed our shit and ran. The both of us. I couldn't just leave her there," he explained.

"And you want to know what to do with her?"

"I know what I'm doing with her. I need to know if you're on board with it. If _he's_ on board with it. She wants them gone, the men who did this, their bosses, whoever was involved. She wants to do it herself, to do what I do, and she asked for my help." He had heard the shower turn off a minute or two earlier and found himself lowering his voice. He had been hoping she would be one of those girls that spent forever in the shower, but he should've known better.

"You agreed," the Spider said immediately, not as a question, but a simple statement of fact. There was no change in his voice, no way Gendry could tell what his agreement to help her would mean.

"I agreed," Gendry confirmed, looking over in time to see Arya leave the bathroom, clothes changed and toweling dry her hair.

"You know where our lines our drawn, who our allies are. The Stark and Baratheon alliance goes way back, much farther than you could ever imagine, and if this girl really is the last one, the appropriate people need to be informed." Gendry could hear him on the other end of the line, take a breath and then whisper something, but it was too low and muffled for him to make out what it was. He figured he was covering the receiver. "You're staying at the Peach?"

"Didn't know where else was safe," Gendry answered, totally unfazed by the fact that the Spider knew where he was.

"No, you're right there. There's an underground parking garage down the road, at Madison. You know the one?" Gendry answered that he did. "Good. You'll be there in forty-five minutes, level B2, section 3. There will be a black Mercedes waiting. Walk, bring the girl, and all of your things. You can leave your car at the Peach, my people will make sure it is returned to you. Do you understand?"

As soon as Gendry replied that he did, he heard the Spider hang up on the other end.

"That your boss?" Arya asked, sitting down on the corner of the bed as she re-braided her hair.

"Of sorts. He's the one who calls with the info, assignments. Only met him once, when they recruited me. It was at this hotel, actually," he explained, laughing to himself a bit and seeing how Arya eyed him suspiciously. "Never met the big guy though. In any case, get your stuff together. We've got our first appointment."

**Four**.

Forty minutes later, they rounded the corner from section 2 into section 3 of the parking structure on Madison. It was mid-morning by then, so it was fairly quiet. It didn't take a genius to guess that most of the people who worked and used the structure were already in their offices.

Exactly five minutes later they both turned when they saw the headlights of a car coming around the corner into the area they were standing in. Arya stood still with her black backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder and Gendry's 'laptop' case in her right hand, as if waiting for a mysterious car in an underground parking structure was a normal Wednesday morning activity for her, and Gendry, large duffel bag at the ground by his feet, holding onto his briefcase and houseplant, much more nervous than her though trying desperately not to show it. There was normally much more information

The car, a shiny black Mercedes sedan, pulled up alongside them and Gendry heard the click of the doors unlocking, yet no driver came out of the car to greet them.

"Well, I guess we just get in," Arya said, walking around to the other side of the car. He watched as she opened the door and sat down inside before doing the same. It wasn't noticeable until they were inside, but the interior of the car had been customized to be like the insides of taxis or limos, with a wall shielding them from whoever was driving and a little pane of tinted glass at the top that would slide back and forth if need be.

They sat in silence for the better part of a half hour, mostly staring at their hands in their laps, though Gendry was glad that they were able to see out the windows.

It was Arya that spoke first.

"I know this area," she said. For the first time there was some real kind of emotion in her voice that wasn't anger. "I've been around here before, not for a long time though." She sounded almost excited, maybe thinking she was helping by recognizing where they were, as if they had been kidnapped.

_Well, we kind of have, if you think about it._

"We're definitely not in Flea Bottom anymore," Gendry said in return. "Probably close to the Red Keep Compound, if you can judge by these gated houses and fancy shops. Makes sense you'd have been 'round this area before, what with your family being so rich and all."

"We're not rich!" She snapped back at him.

"You're not? Seems everyone else must think differently then, eh? What with the two Escalades your parents rolled around in, or that big merger or whatever it was you moved down here for. Not to mention the fact that back home your house was called the Stark Estate—"

"Would you shut up?" _Oh, there is that temper coming out again_, he thought. _We'll have to calm that if she's gonna succeed at this job._ "You were living in the same damn apartment as my family was, so I don't wanna hear about how rich my family was. Least we got our money through lawful means, unlike someone else I can think of."

They had turned now, facing each other instead of staring out the windows as the houses gradually got larger, the cars more than gradually got more flashy, and the car they rode in climbed higher and higher up the hill towards the Red Keep Compound. He watched her narrow her eyes at him and say those last few words insinuating what she thought of his jobs.

"Well, milady, I guess you better get used to that way of life. Yours ended yesterday and you're quickly heading down the path of mine, so try not to be too much of a hypocrite," he told her, just then noticing how tightly his hands were gripping the terra cotta pot the houseplant was in and loosening them slightly. "You're the one that asked me to help you, remember?"

"Gods, you're such an ass." She shook her head and continued to look out the window. "Looks like this is it," she said a few moments later. They both watched out the window as a large iron gate swung open in front of the car and they pulled up and around a circular driveway, slowing to a stop in front of what had to be the most impressive house that Gendry had thought he'd ever laid eyes on. Of all the powerful men he'd taken out in their homes, all the extravagant palaces and temples he'd seen in Dorne and across the Narrow Sea, he decided that this was definitely the most grand.

The doors to the car were opened simultaneously by two doormen in chauffeur uniforms who quickly divested both Arya and Gendry of their belongings, ushering them out of the driveway and in through the large double doors. The outside of the house was not very modern, but that old style popular in the Red Keep neighborhood – large white or beige earthy-toned houses with dark red brick and terra cotta accents that looked like they rose out of the very hill that they were built into. Gendry watched as Arya craned her head around at the front door when they entered. It was the same style as what you'd expect, with a large cursive capital B that split in half when both doors opened.

They quietly followed the same doormen further inside, taking notice that the inside of this house was much different than the outside. Dark walls, mostly with either very dark burgundy colored paint or equally as dark patterned wallpaper, hardwood floors, and walls lined with large portraits of men in suits, full families perfectly posed, or landscapes of stormy seas, all in ornate gold gilded frames. One room they passed looked like the sort of men's lounges out of old movies, pool tables with low hanging Tiffany stained glass lamps, overstuffed leather chairs, and heads of deer and other animals displayed proudly on the walls.

They turned a corner and the doorman opened a large wooden door, gesturing and nodding for them to enter. The office found themselves in was equally as dark as the rest of the house, neat and tidy, with floor to ceiling bookshelves along the walls that only stopped for the windows, all which still had the curtains pulled tightly shut. A fireplace burned lowly in one corner with a sitting area surrounding it. The light overhead came from a number of large ceiling fans. Directly across from the door was a large mahogany L-shaped desk with a mess of papers strewn about, a laptop open with a large monitor next to it, and two bankers lamps with green shades on either side. Whoever they were here to meet was sitting at the desk, facing away from them in a wine-colored leather office chair.

"Well, well, well," the man said, turning around in his chair, this one a rotating office chair. Gendry almost felt sorry for the chair for having to carry the burden of this man's weight, adding to his inability to keep a straight face. It wasn't lost on him that it seemed like they were in a cliché. He half expected the man to turn around and 'make him an offer he couldn't refuse.' He was dressed finely, that was for sure. When he stood up out of the chair, Gendry could see the man was about the same height as he was, but he wagered he was roughly three times his size. Paying no attention whatsoever to Gendry, his sole focus was on Arya standing next to him. "If it isn't Miss Arya Stark. I'd say you've gotten a lot bigger since the last time Ned had you here in my study, but I see that isn't the case."

Gendry heard her scoff under her breath, not trying to disguise it. "Well, I can't say the same thing about you, can I, Mr. Baratheon? You've certainly gotten a lot bigger since the last time we met." _Oh, shit_, Gendry thought. _He knows her, but I hope she knows what she's doing right now, if he's the Baratheon that I think he is._

He watched her step away from his side and close the gap between herself and Mr. Baratheon, leaving about five feet separating them. Gendry waited and watched her as she raised her head to confidently meet the much larger man's eyes. He stared back at her, as if not sure what to make of it, before throwing his head back and erupting in a deep laughter. Arya quickly turned her head back to Gendry and flashed a smile, but before she knew it Mr. Baratheon had closed the space and threw his arms around her to hug her tightly, enough so to make Gendry unsure if she could still breathe.

"Don't just stand by the door, Waters," he said when he finally let go of Arya. "Come join us by the fire. We've got plenty to discuss." He motioned them towards the chairs by the fireplace and nodded at the doorman, who left and returned minutes later with a rolling drink cart topped with three short glasses and various crystal containers of honey-brown colored alcohol. They watched as the doorman poured all three and passed them around.

"Fifty-year Scotch from up north. Got it last time I was up there visiting the Starks. Been saving it for gods knows what, but I figured right about now we could probably all benefit from some," Mr. Baratheon explained.

Gendry took a hesitant sip from his glass. "Listen, Mr. Baratheon -"

"Call me Robert, would you? I think with the situation we've got ourselves in we can drop the formalities."

"Um, yes, of course... Robert. It's just that I thought it might be good if I explained what happened..." Gendry started, mentally hitting himself for being nervous. _He's just my boss, right?_ Gendry asked himself. _No, no he's not _just_ my boss. He's _the_ boss, the man who decides what calls the Spider makes and who is on my list next. There's probably enough security detail in this house to surround me before I even realize what's happening._

"I know why you're both here," he started, leaning forward in his seat to face Arya. "Seven hells, girl, I always thought it'd be me the Lannisters would get to first. Ned Stark was an honorable man, you've got to believe me. He only got involved in any of my work because I'd asked him, damn near begged him to move to Kings Landing to help me and now look where it's gotten us." He sat farther into the wingback chair and took a long drink out of his glass. "I never thought I'd outlive Ned and I sure as shit never thought that Arya Stark, the child that played with her siblings in these rooms ten years ago would be sitting in my study asking for my help to avenge her family. But such is the situation we find ourselves in and we - all of us - are going to have to deal with this."

Suddenly Gendry realized exactly what the ties where. _For gods sake, Gendry, did you even pay attention to what the Spider said? Baratheons and Starks go way back. It shouldn't be a surprise to me at all that Arya would've met them before._

Arya opened her mouth as if to respond, but instead watched as Robert pressed the read intercom button on the phone set sitting on the side table next to his chair. "Meyers, please send him in now."

There was a bit of static before a man's gruff answered, "Right away, sir."

The large doors they entered through opened a moment later and Gendry watched, part surprised, as the Spider calmly walked through the door. His steps were soft and made almost no sound on the hardwood floor as he padded across and took his place standing next to Robert's chair. He made quick eye contact with Gendry and nodded his acknowledgement of him.

"I'm going to make myself perfectly clear. I want her good at this, boy, do you understand me? No botched jobs, no messes, no trail leading back to us. You got that?" He listened as Robert listed off his expectations with the Spider standing silently at his side, slightly bristled at the uncalled for familiarity in the way he referred to him as 'boy'. "We'll get you everything you need, but you're gonna take your time. You'll teach her to be perfect. Clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

"And Arya," he said, turning towards her again, "I'm sorry but we're going to need to change things up quite a bit. My men are already working to find a place for you and Gendry to stay. It won't be what he's used to and it certainly won't be what you're used to but it'll have to do. We need you both to be able to relocate at a moment's notice from now on. Mr. Varys here will help to set you and Gendry up with an apartment as well as a small allowance. Of course, you will also have whatever payment Gendry receives from his normal jobs, which he will continue to do. If I cut to the chase, you'll have to lay low. The Lions are well aware that one young she-wolf was out of their reach and you can bet your life they'll be looking for you."

"I understand," Arya replied slowly, calmly. "Nothing will get done unless I disappear, become no one for as long as it takes... How soon do we start?"

Robert laughed. "How very eager you are. I think I've got operatives more skittish than you. Still, you've got to be patient, girl. Mr. Varys?"

The Spider took a single step forward before speaking. "You'll start today. Both of you." He turned his gaze over to Gendry and then back to Arya. "My little birds are our scouting as we speak, making arrangements. You both will disappear for a while , giving your enemies a chance to think Arya is no longer a threat. I expect you to train her so she is as talented as you are. Make no mistake, this is not a task that will be over in a few months or even a year. This is a long job and this will be done right. Do you understand, Mr. Waters?"

"Yes, sir."

He eyes shifted back to Arya.

"And you, Miss Stark, do you understand?"

She stood and faced him, head tilted up to look at him.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Very well," the Spider replied.

He reached into the left side of the khaki trench coat, pulled out a manila envelope, and held it out, offering it towards Arya. A faint smile played across his face as she reached out instinctively to grab it.

"Welcome to Baratheon."


End file.
